Dances With Wolves
by AubreyWitch
Summary: Had she a heart, it would be breaking right now. ONE SHOT LEMON KougaKagura


**AN:** This took me **forever**. So sorry that it's still choppy and not really fleshed out, but I just had to get it posted before I went insane. :D Hope you like it. And if you do like my stories then check out the one I'm co-writing with Lady Penguin entitled "Blood Fang" at www. fanfiction . net /s/ 3078313 /1/ (without the spaces). Any comments, suggestions are greatly appreciated. Thanks. :)

**Dances With Wolves **

She lands before him with a sudden gush of wind, enjoying how he shields his eyes. She has sought him out this time.

"Kagura." His eyes are livid; his body jerks from the barely controlled rage. "Bitch, you've just made this a whole lot easier on me."

His wolves are too far behind. It provides her with plenty of time to kill him before help could arrive. She laughs, idly twirling her fan and watches as the memory of his near death slides behind his eyes. Their history is dark and somehow heavy in her chest. But she likes the weight of it. It's proof that she's real.

"Come for my jewel shards again?" His voice is arrogant, but she remembers a time when she had ripped them from his legs with her own hands. It is true that she had intended to kill him that time, but this is different.

"I haven't come to fight, wolf prince."

He glowers at her, the use of his title an insult adding to the fuel of hatred for his comrades' deaths. "Well that's too bad, cause I'm gonna rend you limb from limb."

The irony of his words are not lost on her when they make love later for the first time.

* * *

He runs like the wind, she thinks as he charges her thoughtlessly again. But he's already begun to slow. She remains all but unaffected save for the frustration beginning to surface behind her purposeful smirk. It's becoming increasingly difficult to maintain her mask of boredom as the fight continues. Why can't he recognize their similarities? Why can't he—

She gasps and chokes as the air is forced from her lungs, eyes wide and unseeing as she stares past the man pressing himself into her chest and tumbles, gracelessly for once. She doesn't feel the impact with the wet earth but recognizes the heat of his breath against the curve of her neck seconds before his claws penetrate her flesh for the first time, branding her as his own.

In the silence, she can hear leaves rustling in the wind. She imagines her life leaking past her lips when she finally exhales though she knows it isn't possible. Already the wound begins to heal, and she wishes sincerely that it could scar so that she might bear someone else's mark for once. He's rent the obi to her kimono, and she feels the fabric slip open loosely when he pulls back slowly to look at her, shock and remorse momentarily marring the usually stark features of his face. It's immediately followed by a look of pained confusion–one, which she thinks, must resemble her own–but she's already used his hesitation to execute her move. After all, she's no amateur.

He chokes when he is jerked forward forcefully, feels the air catch in his throat at the thought of her fatal blow. His body crashes into hers, and wide-eyed, he is momentarily unable to comprehend the hand fisted in his hair—the lips crushed against his own.

* * *

He slams her back hard against the wall, savoring the small cry of pain that escapes her lips, his eyes dark and brimming with animalistic needs. He tilts his head back, chest rumbling from a throaty laugh as his claws scrape over the bare skin of her thighs. "You love it when I make it hurt."

She is panting, hands sweaty were they grip at his shoulders and yet still manages a look of disinterest as she replies, "I don't give a damn how you do it as long as you get me off."

He grins at her then, revealing his fangs and slams his body against her, forcing himself deep inside of her. She wraps her arms around him, gripping his back as if to pull him even closer though her slick breasts are already crushed against his chest. He buries his face in her hair, licking and nipping at her neck, enjoying the vibrations from her rhythmic grunts as they resonate against his lips.

He doesn't know why she came to him that first time, but he understands why she returns. Ultimately she seeks freedom, and he is very good at providing that illusion. In the moment when her muscles clench around him and her eyes grow wide, he sees it: a fleeting deception of floating outside her skin, and he thinks that sometimes if he wasn't holding her down, she'd fly away never to be seen again.

"If I had a heart beat, you'd have just stopped it," she jokes when she can speak once again.

"Mmm." He doesn't bother to move his lips from where they rest against her collar bone. She is physically draining; he thinks only of regaining his strength before she is ready to go again.

"I wouldn't have killed them, if I had known you then." Her voice is softer and holds and edge of sadness.

He tenses slightly, the only indication of his discomfort but refuses to answer. He doesn't like to think about it, lest he accept his betrayal. He knows that she's been trying to express her remorse for some time, but he doesn't want to hear it. Sex makes women weak; he likes her better as her normal, fiery self.

She recognizes the warning but can't drop it this time. She doesn't actually regret their deaths but feels that she should somehow. "Kouga—"

"Dammit, woman. Keep talking, and I'll have to force you to be quiet."

He rises to his elbows to give her a stern glare, and she grins at him. His words are playful, but the message is clear: he won't tolerate that topic any longer.

"Overly confident today or are you forgetting who is the stronger of the two?"

A deep growl reverberates in his chest, igniting a tingle deep inside her abdomen. She moans lightly in anticipation as he descends upon her like a true predator.

"I'll make you regret that."

Once mortal threats are reduced to common foreplay, something neither seem to mind.

* * *

She wakes in his arms hours or days later, time no longer relevant in this endless rapture. But she knows all too well the fleeting illusion of time. He's sleeping soundly, exhausted in every sense of the word, and she thinks she couldn't possibly love another more. Had she a heart, it would be breaking right now.

She sweeps his bangs to one side with the back of her hand and leans in to press her lips to his forehead regretfully. She clenches her other hand by her hip and feels the shards dig into her palm. "I need these more than you do."

It's been nearly a month, and Naraku will be waiting. Already she feels the tightness in her chest that promises a world of hurt. At the edge of the cave, she hears him wake and breaks into an uncharacteristic run. Her chest is heaving as she pants, the hollow pounding above her left breast an illusion of strain, and she leaps into the air at the sound of his footfall, ripping the feather from her hair in a searing moment of panic.

"Kagura!"

He stands at the mouth of the cave, naked, dark locks spilling loose around his chest as he peers up at her, an assortment of complex emotions evident in his face.

"Go back to your pack, wolf prince," she calls over her shoulder to him, voice once more haughty though she knows he'll see through her this time. She forces herself to look away, adding to herself as an afterthought, "They need you, Kouga."


End file.
